As much as I do love books, I can see where you're coming from. A couple of days ago I was thinking about how small my life feels; I'd like to travel, I wish I could produce some work of literature or art, I'd like to connect more with people (my comfort zone is me, myself, and I), I'd like to do...something bigger, I guess. But what do I do? I read other people's lives, real or imaginary, and other people's philosophies and ideas. Where are mine? Where's my life? Books...they're great...but they're not enough.

Oops, sorry to rant all over your lj!